Thinking Over
by gelfling
Summary: Teenage Goten and Trunks flirting with adolesence...and each other, whether they like it or not. Trunks is in deep denial over any attraction, but how long will Goten be content to let him wait? POVs, lime, swearing, angst, and yaoi. COMPLETE
1. Driving Shotgun

I was awake the first time you touched me.

You were driving me home, like you sometimes do when we don't feel like flying, me dozing in the backseat while you sport the rebel motif and take the engine to the limit.  It was funny the first time you got pulled over though.

I felt when you stopped, and knew were home, well, where I sleep when I'm not at Capsule Corp anyway.  I didn't get up though, because I knew you would look in the rear view mirror at me for a few seconds like you always do, sigh, then come around and open my door for me.  Sometimes you'd carry me inside, other times you'd wake me up and make me walk.

I know you drove a long way for me.  I know you're nearly as tired as I am, from these late night parties we flit and fly to.  But I still like making you work the extra mile, still like the extra bit of attention and affection you give to me and only me.  And only you do that for me.  Gohan is too busy now.

You've opened the door now, and I know you're debating whether to shake me awake and yell in that voice I _swear_ is Vegeta telling me to get me free loading ass off his couch, or swear at me in those Saiyan curses  you picked up from him and pick me up and carry me inside.

I thought that was what you were doing anyway.  But you weren't.

I sort've floated on consciousness, like a volley ball on a heated pool on the gray upholstery that smelled like your aftershave.  

And waited for you to make up your mind.

Make up my destiny, the way you always do.  To be, or not to be.  To pour soda down the girl's shirts or to let the lab mice into the cafeteria, because the food sucks anyway.  

Decide what happens to us Trunks.

You took your time.

I was awake when your fingers touched my skin, Trunks.  And I mean _touched_.  Not just that our flesh came in contact, like during sparring or school or just fooling around.  

I mean you touched me.  Like you meant something.

I could feel it, in the meticulousness, the tenderness.  The way you lightly brushed back my bangs and curved your finger pads slowly, deliberately, over my cheek.  Stopping just before you reached my mouth.  

I felt your hand snap away.

I couldn't see it, but I could feel it in the brief yet drastic drop in temperature and ki your body fluxed, in the slight intake of your breath.  In how cold my skin felt afterwards.

You stared at me for a while after that, not moving from your vigil and punishment beside the car door.

I can hear you breathing faster, then a snort and mutter as you grip my shoulders roughly and haul me out, throwing me into the air and in your arms before I hit the ground.  Sometimes you still treat me like a chibi.

I'm to be carried, then?

Make your decision Trunks.

And make my destiny.


	2. Driving Drunk

Standard Disclaimer applies.  

Trunk's POV

_Speech_

I'm siding with my father.  I hate all Sons.  You especially.  And, like my father, I only want to be with you.  

Sometimes I wonder if I'm anything more than a good time to you.  Sure we've been friends since forever…but it could have been just about anybody else.  _I_ could have been anybody else, and you'd have been 'best friends' with him just like you are to me.  Anybody else could have given you what I have.  Anybody else would have.

I'm not questioning our friendship.  I-I'm…sorry.  I didn't mean for it to sound like that.  What I'm questioning is…me, I guess.  And you.  And-well, still you and me, I guess.

I forget sometimes about those things, the way they are.

It's sort of like how I can never remember those mall pictures you goggle over so much, the ones that change every time you look at it.  It's a woman if you look at the black and a dog if you look at the white and some kind of ugly bird if you look at the red.  And yet it's just a swirl of colors if you look at it all together.

Sometimes I look at us in the red, and it's different than the white friendship we had.  Have.  Yeah.

Well, anyway, we're here.  Goten?  We're at your hou-Oh.  You fell asleep.  Again.

You _always_ fall asleep.  I swear, eat, sleep, and laugh; those are your basic functions.  You're just like at cat, you're so lazy.  Just like a cat, stretched yet curled on the backseat, on hand cradling your head while the other arm hangs over the edge at the wrist, showing the pale, almost luminescent quality of your arms and long strengthy fingers of your family.  

My father never really quit regretting that my hair came out so flat, and your ebony spikes catch what little porch light there is and suck it inside itself, throwing jagged shadows over the unnatural paleness and gentle yet sculpted contours of your face.  Father says Saiyans never had such pale skin; it's some kind of defect or abnormality in Goku-san's blood.  He says things like that all the time about Goku though.  

It doesn't change a thing for you.  It doesn't look like a defect on you.  You look so…so you, I guess.  The way you always look.  You know.  

I can't see your legs or even most of your body, but I really don't need to.  I know what they look like.  I've looked at them enough.

I get out and around to where you were, yanked open the door and almost yanked you out too, but I didn't.  I could have yelled at you too, or poked you until you woke up, I didn't do that either.

I could see your face better from this angle, and I'm suddenly overcome with the urge to smash your face flat, to pull you out and slap you over and over again, until you put your hands on me and touch me to push me away or hit me back, so I could grab and hold you so close and so tight so you couldn't hit me and you couldn't get away and I could keep you and look at you and touch you whenever I wanted.

I want to touch you.  Right now.

My fingers brush your hair, and I think briefly to father and my own hair and I'm listening super-close to your respiration and heartbeat.  Except that I can't hear anything over my own heartbeat, so I watch the rise and fall of your chest and shoulders instead.  Your hair is a lot coarser than mine, more than any human girl's, but it's really light, clear.  No gel, no mousse.  Just natural, and organic.  Just real.  My fingers almost follow my gaze to your chest, but then they touch your skin and I completely forget about it.

Your skin is burning, not painful or alarming, but so warm it's a shock, a beacon in the brisk fall night.  Or I was cold, anyway.  I traced my fingers over your skin, and I can't even describe it right.  I can barely _remember_ it right.  I do remember it wasn't all smooth.  Some parts yielded more easily to my fingers than other.  Some parts were just meat, other was just bone.

I guess,…maybe it really _wasn't_ that remarkable.  I mean, it's not like I haven't touched you before.  I usually do at least once a day.  Sometimes I even notice when I haven't, and then I want to.  But this time it was different.  You didn't know right then, it was a secret.  It was _my_ secret.  It…wasn't so much what you felt like.  The _big_ deal was what I felt inside.  In my mouth, the top of my throat, the center of my chest.  It…it was weird.  It was really weird.  It hurt…but I kind of liked it too.

I almost touched your lips.

I almost did, but I didn't, so that's what's important.

Almost.

I knew they'd be dry.  Dry, and not exactly smooth, but not rough, and very firm and full.

I almost touched them.

But I-

That doesn't matter.  I'm being,…stupid I guess, and that isn't really my role, Go-chan, that's yours.  Just kidding, just kidding, geez, relax man, I didn't really mean it.  If you were awake, I'm pretty sure you would've hit me already or pouted or stuck your tongue out or something but you're asleep so you didn't and I didn't so it's OK really, so let's get you inside before your mom kills me right?  Right.  Ok.

I grab your shoulder and pull you out, working on autopilot and not really paying attention to you but trying to concentrate on what your mom is going to say and what _I'm_ going to say and how to close the door with my foot without putting a dent in it.

And not, I repeat _not_, thinking of how you feel in my arms.  Or how your head feels against my chest.

And then we're at the door.

I don't even have time to knock.

_Ohayo, Chi-Chi-san, how-  No, he's not-  We tried to call earli-  Big project for biolo-  No, Goten doesn't even _ like_  part-  Gomen-nasai, Miss, we-  That's alright, that's alright, we-  Or I could just takehimupnow??_

I have to spit out the last line to get anything in.

_Domo-  Yeah.  I guess he does look kinda cute when he sleeps._

And you do.  But she's looking at me funny, and visions of cast iron frying pans are parading through my future.

_I mean, inna sort of sleepy, kittenish, you know, kiddish way, that, um_

She's still looking at me funny, so I just grin and shrug and bow my head a bit then I'm sliding cautiously to the stairs before dashing up to your room.  

My feet perform an immaculate mine sweep for lost clothes, dishes, picture frames and other unknowns on the floor of your darkened room on the way to your bed.  I know by heart where it is, I even know what it feels like and what it smells like.  

I lay you down roughly with your feet on the pillow then leave the without looking back or touching or even closing the door, said a brief and insincere good-bye to your mom and drove off at 30 before accelerating to 90.

My body is sending various signals and commands to my brain but I block them all out with something of a struggle, grudgingly thanking my dad for whatever self-control he taught me.

I yank the car to a halt, registering and secretly delighting in the scream and pain of the brakes while the car fish tails in the middle of the road, kept in loose check with little bumpers of ki.

When all movement stops, I'm still trembling.

When did I start trembling?

I wrap my arms around the wheel and lean my head against it, being careful not to press down on the horn.

And I wait until the tremors pass.

I almost touched your lips, Goten.

I almost but I didn't.

I could have though, I could have, and you wouldn't have to know about it.  Nobody would ever have to know about it.

Remember when I said I wanted to hit you?  Remember when I said I hated you, that my father was right?

Well, it's still true.  I want to hurt you.  I want to hurt you because _you_ hurt _me_.  And I want this hurt to go away, and you're causing it, so if I get rid of you I get rid of the pain right?  Right?  Makes sense.

I can't see the white anymore Goten.  Even when I squint my eyes and clench my teeth and try really hard I can't see it anymore.  It hurts my eyes.

I hate you with everything I've got, and I only want to be with you.


	3. Driving Home

Chapter 3

Driving Home

Warning: Yaoi

Disclaimer:  I have five bucks.  Sue me.  I really didn't really like my shoes anyway.  

Archive: YES!  Just email me first, so I know where to admire myself at.

I curled tighter into a bed, squirmed, flipped, and yanked the pillow over my head, and pressed it way down as tight as I could.  

I could still hear the soft crying.

I have good hearing like that.  Through two closed doors, about eight pillows and down the hall and everything, and I can still _hear_ it.

I don't know why she bothers.  It isn't like it changes anything; it isn't like he made her happy.  I really don't see why she loved him.  I love her.  I love her.  Isn't that enough?

I growl to myself, spring out of bed and stalk to the window.  I'm not allowed to sleep in class, I'm not allowed to sleep in Trunk's car, I'm not even allowed to sleep in my own frickin' _room_.

Well, fine.  I won't then.

I take a short flight to your house, trying to keep my ki nil and still not crash face first on the dirt and not wake Vegeta up all at the same time.  Not waking Vegeta is big priority.  If he's asleep.  He could be training for all I know.  He does that often.

I tap your window gently, playing the shave-and-a-hair-cut-two-bits over and over again until you get up.  I used to do this a whole lot when we were kids, but I stopped at 11 when you told me to grow up or get another teddy-bear.  I never really did figure out why you got so ticked.

You squint at me through the window after you finally stopped squirming and threw a pillow at the glass.  You nick a shirt off the floor and yank it on, over your boxers.  By the way, I can hear you swearing.  I have really good hearing.

'What the kami_-_damned_ fuck _do you want?  Do you know what _frickin__'_ time it is?'

'Sure!'  

I know it bugs you that I'm so chipper, so I make sure to do it.

'Time for you to wake _up_!  You sleep too much as it is, do you know how much of your life you're wasting snoozing?  Geez, Trunks-'

That really gets you going, so while your eyes boggle and you take your arms off the top window to gesture and your face contorts into indignant and righteous rage (spike and dye your hair and you'd be Chibi-Vegeta-san), I dart inside your room and under your covers.

'You were asleep the whole fucking ti- Get out of my bed!  Get out right now, Goten, what the hell do you think you're doing?'

I pulled the covers over my head into a makeshift hood and smiled and stuck my tongue at you.  

'I'm going to Grandma's house, you big bad wolf.'

Your jaw drops, and you're trying very hard not to scream.  I smirk.

'So, have you been _boggled_ today?'

Before I know it, your hand is on my shoulder and throwing me out, but I tackle your chest and drag you into bed under me, keeping you there with my weight and your shock.  You stiff freeze for a second, two seconds, face a rictus of horror, then burst into a frantic struggle like a wet cat, trying to beat me off and run without touching me.

I just clutch your chest and one arm tighter and wrap my legs around yours until you can't move anymore.  

You struggle harder so I raise my ki, 'Goten!' and you instinctively raise yours to match and beyond, 'Trunks!  Stop it!  Please!', still stiff and levitating a few inches off of the bed.

I remove my head from your chest to look up at you, just like I used to, 'I need to sleep here tonight.  I can't go back home right now.  I'll go later, but I need to sleep here right now.  Please Trunks?  Just for a little while?' 

Please?  I can get anymore chibi-adorable-ish, don't make me go.

'Fine, but get out of my bed Goten.'

'I want to sleep here.'

'Then let go of me.'

'I want to sleep with you.  Like we used to.  It didn't bother you before.  Please Trunks?'

'…'

You looked at me funny, and I felt like I could almost read your mind.

'…Fine.  But let go.'

So I did.  You scooched against the wall, sitting up and still looking at me in that way.

'What's wrong?'

'I couldn't sleep.'

'Why?'

'Mom.'

'Oh.'

You say a lot in that sentence.  How much we know each other, that we can explain five years of situations and feelings and crap in one word.

'You gonna lay back down?'

You do.  Stiffly, of course, but you don't give me your back.  I stare at you.  I want you closer.  I want you by my side.  I need a friend, Trunks.  I don't want you all the way over there, with just your eyes to keep me company.  

You understand some how, and reach out and grab my hand, pulling it between us and squeezing.  I grip you tighter back, painfully, and stare at you.  The smile dies on your lips, and you think for a while.  You let go of my hand and reach for my shoulder, and I have my head buried in your chest and my arm around your waist in an instant.

Your body's still stiff and unwelcoming; and I can feel the grimace you so tactfully won't voice.  You tap my back awkwardly in short quick brushes that are meant to be comforting, and try to brush my hair back without actually touching me.

'So, what was all that boggling crap you pulled?'

'It's a word Gohan told me.'

'Gohan found a word for _that_?'

'It means surprised.  Mentally challenged or puzzled.'

'Oh.  Not what I thought then-'

'What _were_ you thinking?'

'Oh, nothing.  Maybe like how you must be boggled everyday, you can't even remember 3 hours ago, can't expect you to remember yesterday.'

I hit your back.

'Yeah, mostly by _you_.'

'You're boggled by _me_.'

'I just can't figure out why I'm friends with such a stuck-up jerk.'

'Cause you're an idiot, Go-chan.'

I growl and squeeze you and tickle your chest with my hair until you stop giggling and beg me to stop.  Most people don't know that you're ticklish on your chest.  But I do.  Most people don't know that you sleep topless either, or have an all-body tan.  But I do.

After the giggles die down, you're silent for a while.

'Do you want to talk about it?'

And I already know what you mean.  It has nothing to do with boggling.

'Uh uh.'

And I hold you closer and don't say anything and pretend to sleep.  You don't move, and I just listen.  I have good hearing.

Your heartbeat is going a mile a minute, so fast it's scares me, and my own pulse speeds up just listening to yours.  Your skin is still cold and hard and trying to shrink away from me, but you're sweating.  I can smell the fear in your skin easier now, Trunks.

You waited a long time before you touched me, until your pulse slowed.  

I was awake this time too.

You wrapped an arm around me gingerly, waiting for me to awake or react, but I didn't do either.  You sighed, relaxed, and curled around me, smelling my hair.  After a thought you wrapped a leg around mine.  You always were possessive.  You squeezed me gently, sighed again, relaxed, and satisfied.

You tried to keep still.  I could feel it.  

Then you started to shift around in my hair, sniffing, your pulse acting up, your nose brushing against my forehead, then face and nose in an Eskimo kiss, your lips brushed quick across my head and a dry, simple, hard kiss on my temple.  Your hand was petting and grabbing my back and neck, while your leg pulls me closer still and I feel your hips roll once towards me, but then I feel the tip of your tongue slide from my nose to the very tips of my hair where you keep your head arched and body still. 

I feel you quiver and breathe, in my arms you let go of me gently after checking my face and turn carefully in my arms to face the wall.  If it weren't for that I think you would've ran.

You do boggle me.  I don't think I'll ever completely understand you, and that's the better half of the deal.  I've always waited for you to make the decisions, to create the plans, to provide the alibi when my tongue was caught.  You know what you want Trunks.  I know what I want.  You've always gone after what you want, so I can't understand why you're doing it now.  You do boggle me.

I open my eyes to stare at the back of your neck, before cuddling you again and molding my head to fit under yours.

The smell of your fear floods the room and your temperature drops.

'Goten?'

I don't say anything at all.

I don't know what _to_ say anyway.

I just lay there with you; with your back pressed against my chest and listened to the breath you were holding back, and felt the flashes of hypothermia and heat stroke rack your frame.

'Goten?'

I know I'm awake now.  I can hear it in your voice, the despairing and pleading tone.  Your heart beats irregularly beneath my hand.

I lick your neck slowly, dipping the tip of my tongue into the base of your neck, trailing a wet, thin and cold trail up your neck and blazing skin, and felt your body stop completely.

I pull back to study you.

You're in shock.  Severely so.

I wrap my mouth of the soft side of your neck and run my lips and teeth over the taught muscle, sucking gently on the skin and rubbing with my tongue.

While you remember how to breathe, I explore the end of your jaw, the juncture of your shoulder, trying to drink your skin and tasting your sweat and oil, listening to you pant and moan and tremble beneath my mouth and fingers, one hand caressing your chest and nipples while the other pets and combs your hair.  You're so vocal, so responsive under my touch, my name whispered among your pleading words that make me want to swallow you whole.  I can feel your heart pound under my hand and beside my chest like a primal desert dance an it's all I can do not to scream.  My heart beats an answering drum and duet to yours.  

You turn over to catch my face, and stare wild up at me, your eyes desperate and hungry and afraid.  

You fear I'm playing with you.  I can see it in your eyes, the Brief's confidence erased, the Saiyan ferocity gone, only a young love-sick boy left.

I hate and love the way you look.  Tender.  Fragile.  A little suicidal.

I smile a shy, warm smile.  I don't want to startle or hurt you.

'Hi.'

'Goten?'

'Yeah?'

'What are you doing?'

'Tasting you.'

'Oh.  Why?'

'Because I want to.  I like to.'

'Oh…Again?'

And I kissed you for the first time, both of us with our eyes open, and even though you were groping me a few minutes ago and I had just finished giving you the best hickey I ever gave anyone…We're shy.

Your lips are dry, and I'm hesitant, we're missing completely and barely moving, and I'm suddenly so scared my neck is locked, you're reaching up and brushing your lips against mine and I can't hold my eyes open, the moment so intense that the temples and side of my nose echo and ache and it's so hard to move my lips and I want to so bad-

But…you're not moving.  You're still stiff and hard, and just as unwelcoming as before.  But…I don't…

I stare into your eyes, watching and feeling your emotions stumble and stagger in their race to get your attention, and I smile so gently I can't even feel it it's not even there, and lean down to press my lips to yours.  

Your gasp is like a shriek in the silence, your body stiff and hard and paralyzed under me.  I lift off of you to nibble at your lips, feeling you tremble and flush, before collapsing boneless and limp and sweating beneath me, closing your eyes and parting your mouth in surrender.

It's amazing, I'm not even doing anything like I've seen _you_ do with your many dates, and you can't do anything but quiver and yank in those ragged, dying breaths.  I frown a bit, and tease you a little, wondering if maybe you weren't ready.  This wasn't-what you wanted?  Not yet?  Maybe I was wrong?  But I was sure-

'Trunks?'

You don't even open your eyes, and I'm a little startled by the sound of my own voice.  It's guttural and darkly low and lusty, and I cough a little to clear it up.

'You Ok?'

You still don't open your eyes; just keep up the picture of _intense_ pain and capitulating control.  You close your mouth to swallow, before opening it with another of the needy gasps that's keeping you alive.

You weren't ready.  

'Do you want me to stop?'

You snap your eyes open dangerously at that, and look at me frantically and give a small shake of your head.

Oh.  Right.  Ok.  I'm not gonna argue with that.

It's kind of weird, kissing and touching you like this.  You won't participate and you won't make a sound, but you respond vibrantly to everything I do, from small caresses on your arms to licking the inside of your bottom lip.

I've never seen you shy Trunks.  I've never seen you vulnerable.

You've done things in public with girls that I would never dream of doing _anywhere_, and you were more than in control a few minutes ago.  I purr in my chest reassuringly.  

This feels weird, like kissing a statue, doing whatever I want, giving me a huge power rush and heating the magenta butterflies in my stomach, and you let me do whatever I want.  And you love it.  Or look like you do.  Feel like you do.  Sound like you do.  Actually, you sound like you're about to pass out.

I let go of your lips to let you breathe; enjoying the seasick buoyancy of your chest as I rise and fall with every ravenous breath you take, feeling the bulge near my lower stomach and the January cabin heat of your body.  

I smile at you again, at the picture that you make.  That almost sounded romantic.  The things you do to me.  The things I do to you.  Which are a lot more obvious right now…but that thread of thought is giving me cavities, so I press my lips to your jaw and my stomach into your hips and hear you vehemently make the sound you make when you're trying really hard not to scream.

I purr contentedly as you thrash your head to the side and move my lips to your collar before you hit me on accident, your hands shackled to the sheet as you try really hard not to move.  I don't know why.  I don't know why you taste like rum, and little bit like charcoal.  I don't know why you won't kiss me back.  I think it's safe to say you want to.  Dende knows I want you to. I think it's safe to say you're about to pass out; your breathing is too fast and shallow.  

I lift myself up on my hands and knees, giving you your space while still keeping your face parallel to mine.  You-you are beautiful.  Tanned skin with a light fuchsia tinge drawn straight across your cheeks like a Japanese painting, your eyes closed and lips full and begging, your hair an odd mix with your skin and flat against your head and flared around the pillow like an aura.  

You are beautiful.  I've seen you all my life, and that's never changed.  Time can't touch it, how you look in my eyes and mind.  You are.

Ugh, I'm going off on one of those sappy romantic trips, must think practical thoughts, must think practical thoughts.

I stick out my tongue and trace your bottom lip, sliding agonizingly down your chin and cheek to your neck, licking without my lips actually touching your skin, so it's slightly shameless and insulting and-

-Dammit Trunks, come on!

I grab your head and hair and kiss you firmly, solidly, with all the passion and just _right_ to kiss you, you're mine Trunks, so quit fooling around and just _do_ something, anything, you're wierding me out like—

And you take control again.

And I'm strongly aware of it, for the way you're burying my body into the bed and weaving through my hair, burning the blood in my skin with your mouth, covering me like a marvelously steaming water doused so heavily in alcohol I think _I'm_ going to pass out now…

But don't stop Trunks.  Don't stop for anything.

I open my eyes a few slits to look at you, look at you looking at me, feel your fingers on my ear, my hands squeezing the life out of your pillow next to my head while I clutch your shoulder, and our mouths clash and I can feel your tongue so far down my throat I think I'm going to choke but I'm sucking you down farther, I want you farther, I want you inside, whimpering and twitching as you run your fingers up and down my chest and over my stomach…

Like I said, I've never seen you shy Trunks, so when you pulled off my shirt and straightened up to yank off yours, giving me the _finest_ study and appreciation for geometry and proportion and perfection ever…well, it was nice and better than nice and hot and oh so very, very tempting…but this is really fast.  A little…too fast.

And while your mouth on my skin is…Dende-but you're good and I want us closer but so much way closer…I feel like I'm drowning I feel like I'm falling and I _want_ to but I can't see, slow down Trunks, just a little.

I flip our positions and shackle your hands to the bed, pull my mouth away and try to breathe and get a grip on my body—until you deliberately wrap a leg around my waist and pull us all that much closer together with a daring, sullen sulky look in your eyes, and oh so fucking _hot_ look in your eyes while you slide us up and down and against each other.

I groan as I feel my lungs fail and my blood rush, the bones in my arms turned into green Jello as I struggle to stay in control and slow, even though I can feel how hard I am and I _know_ you can, because I can feel you too…

Dammit Trunks, I wish you wouldn't tease, I can't, keep up like this…drive me crazy…with just your leg…

The very last of my resolve is pulled up to lift my head and close my mouth and stare at you again, hoping you'll see the pleading and pathetic look in my eyes and take the hint.

You just keep up the sultry sullen little boy act though, and because I wasn't giving you what you wanted, determined to tease and pout with those beautiful lips you have until I do.

I shake my head a little and try to speak, but my throat holds everything back.  You scowl at me, and _slowly_ lick your bottom lip, giving me a full view of everything I was missing.  

Ne…Trunks…wow…

Before I realize it, my mouth is already down and open to meet yours, but I stop in time to see you glare before slowly licking my neck instead, since it's the highest thing you can reach and I give a strangled shriek, feel you smirk before moving to suck on my shoulder, each change in strength or spot punctuated with a thrust of our bodies together.

I'm whimpering and moaning with everything, unconsciously begging you to do something, _anything_, but-

The crash of the door opening stops everything like death.

Vegeta stands in the doorway.  

Vegeta.

Vegeta?

He's looking at me.

Damn.

I'd say he's glaring at me, but that isn't _nearly_ strong enough.  

More like he's beating me to the bloody pulp I deserve to be for touching his son with his eyes and will alone.  And I _am_ touching his son, and was about to do a lot more than that, and with me on top it looks like I'm _forcing_ it and…oh wow am I screwed he is _so_ going to kill me.  He is so going to kill me.  He's going to kill me.  Oh shit.  

I'm the son of the man he hates the most and he's _always_ seen me as the weakest of the weak, at least that's what I've always thought, and here I am doing the 'gay' thing with his son, he's always thought me useless—

And then his eyes move to Trunks.  And they haven't change hostility.

No.

Without thinking I snarl, every muscle in my body primed and eager to beat his arrogant ass down a peg, this is _mine_, canines naked hackles high and a deep growl resounding out of my chest.  I dig my fingers around Trunk's wrist, so hard and solid I know there will be custom made bruises on them in the morning and arch my back and shoulders while trying to shield him with my body at the same time.

_Mine_.

Vegeta's eyes flicker briefly to me before going back to Trunks, but I think I caught a small bit of surprise and maybe even approval in them.

I don't risk looking at Trunks, but I want to badly, I _need_ to know how he is right now, and I gamble a really low baritone purr for comfort, before continuing the jagged threatening rumbling from me. 

Vegeta continues to glare.

I continue to growl.

You, Trunks, are the one who breaks the tie.

I feel your tongue on my chest, starting at my solar plexus and crawling a slow quest to my neck and up the curve of my jawbone, a small kiss, before you leans back and I hear your hair and weight on the pillow.

I get an out-of-body experience that happens sometimes, and it's really useful in battle when you want to predict your opponent's next move.  And me and Trunks, we're having a battle right now.

Picture two boys on the bed both shirtless with tousled hair and swollen lips, one sullen and sulky and just completely nonchalant, and the other straining to rip your throat out, showing the teeth and muscle to back it up.  

Predator and prize.  

Neither is ashamed.  Neither is embarrassed.  Neither is sorry, and both are saying the same thing: Get the hell out.

With the curse word included.

I continue to growl and squeeze your wrists even though he isn't looking at me; he's looking at you.  My teeth hurt, and I'm _dying_ to tear into something…I don't like the way he's looking at you.  He isn't coming _near_ you.

You're mine.

I'm dimly aware that there's some type of paternal/progeny telepathy going on, and I feel a bit like an outsider but I really don't _care_!  I don't care if he _is_ your dad, I don't care if he _is_ a hundred times stronger than me and second only to Goku you're mine and I'm terrified but he's _not going to hurt you!_  He isn't coming anywhere _near_ you.

His stance changes, maybe even relaxes a bit, and he looks back at me.

'Keep the noise down brats,' and steps out and closes the door without giving me his back.  Or even taking his eyes off of me.  I don't take my eyes off of him.

The door clicks and I close my mouth by slow degrees as I listen to the footsteps recede and reach out for any variation in his ki.  Any sign.  Just give me a reason.

The thunder fades from my throat when there isn't any, after he's down the hall and in the shower and my hackles settle ever so slightly.

Asshole.  Try to hurt what's mine; if he or anything _ever_ tries to hurt you they'll be having one damned time screaming if they can even manage _that_.  After I'm done with them they'll be lucky if they can pull the _breath_ in to scream.

It takes me a while to realize that you're wriggling in my grasp and calling my name softly.  

I let go of you immediately, worried, and check your face for pain, damn, I was so worried about _Vegeta_ hurting you and _I'm_ doing it instead and I didn't mean it that way, Trunks, really, it was on accident, I didn't-

But you just smile and kiss me softly, affectionately, and I can feel myself melting instantly.  For the longest time I've wanted to do that, and for the longest time the soft smacking wet sounds are the only disturbances in the warm calm of the room,

Right up to the point where you stick your hands in my pants anyway.

A/N:  Hi.  Hello.  Um…yeah.  

This is the ending to my first GotenxTrunks ficcy, before it's been all VegetaxGoku and lately VegetaxGohan but none of that's posted yet, it's still in the revising stages.  So.  Hope you all liked it, I had fun with it, this is an easy coupling, but sometimes the chemistry really isn't clear cut but if you squint you can mess and add and distort bits of it to make it work to what you want and in the end I had a lot of fun.  This is all the first _non-violent_ DBZ coupling fic I've _ever_ written, violence just seems to add itself in there without so much of a by-your-leave, by the way you have people on your couch and one of them is named Violence, and guess what, they're _not_ going home until they are _absolutely necessary_.  Hah.  Well.  Not in this one baby.  The dialogue was fun.  The 'boggling' line was something inspired by my friend the Blue Seeress online.

By the way, if you feel that this ending was lacking, or wish to see one different, the lemony fresh version is at http://www.geocities.com/SerenitatisHime , go to the yaoi fanfic section and the titles are alphabetized.  

Mine should be near the bottom, either under Driving Home or Thinking Over.  One of those.  Wow, to give you a more detailed directions I'd have to shove the site in your face but since I'm not _quite_ that bold or all-powerful I won't.  Who said modesty was back anyway?  Something other people have, I _like_ for people to read the lemon version.  I hope you check it out though.  I'm working on how I write lemons, and I really put thought into this one.  Well, later!

Comments, literary natches, flames directed at gelfling8604@yahoo.com

See lemon version at http://www.geocities.com/SerenitatisHime       or email me at gelfling8604@yahoo.com

Kudos to Diane for her reviews, they were really concise and inspiring.  Wish I had her email though, I wanted to talk to her.


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